


The Absent Heart

by Among_Walkers_and_Angels



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fanfiction, Fluff, Friendship, Love, Norse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Slavery, Vikings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-04-30 11:36:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 14,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14496120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Among_Walkers_and_Angels/pseuds/Among_Walkers_and_Angels
Summary: "The choice that frees or imprisons us is the choice of love or fear. Love liberates. Fear imprisons."





	1. Chapter 1

She was more that just a slave girl to the youngest Ragnarson. For many years, since they were small children, she had been his best friend. The person whom he confided in most, --aside from Floki of course-- the person whom he shared with his deepest fears and darkest secrets; and one of the few people, who not only treated, but saw him, as more than just a Cripple. He trusted her wholeheartedly with everything he had, and in turn, she trusted him the same. 

She was brought to Kattegat from England when she was no older than three, when herself and her mother were taken as Slaves. A gift from King Ragnar to his wife, Queen Aslaug; who instantly took interest in the young girl. Renaming her Freya. 

Ivar could still remember the very first day that they met. He was only five himself, but he could still recall in detail, how small and meek the little Emerald eyed girl seemed at first. How she often peered through the soft brown curls that hung in front of her eyes, as she hid shyly behind her Mother’s skirts as they worked within the Lothbrok home day in and day out. But as the weeks passed, her curiosity towards him and this strange new world grew; and while the small girls mother was less than approving of the new found friendship, Aslaug was more than pleased with the bond. It was a rare occurrence that her youngest son made friends. The other children, and even his own brothers, often leaving him out or picking on him relentlessly because he was a cripple.

But Freya could have cared less about his affliction. Because to her, he was simply another child, and she treated him no different than she had been taught to treat anyone else. It was nice to see him take interest in someone close to his own age. The Queen even taking it upon herself to help Ivar teach the young girl their language so that they could better communicate. Watching with admiration as their bond grew with them throughout the years.

They were inseparable as young children. Often found most days with Freya pulling him around in the small wagon that Floki had built, getting into trouble of all kinds around Kattegat. There was even several occasions where Freya had picked fights with other kids twice her size in defense of Ivar. His brother’s even finding a newfound respect for her when she was only ten. 

She had been tending to her chores when she came upon Sigurd picking on his younger brother, even going as far as to push him from where he’d been sitting. Freya stepped in asking only once that he stop, and when he failed to listen, she took it upon herself to teach him a lesson. Ubbe and Hvitserk had to pull the young girl off their brother as Ivar watched with amusement. But Sigurd learned never to pick on his little brother in her presence ever again. 

Even years later, they still held a great respect for her. The brothers often sneaking in training sessions with sword and shield when she could find time to sneak away from her duties; and while Freya enjoyed it, and even become a decent fighter, she was a far deadlier shot when welding a bow. They often joked of how she would make a better shield maiden than she did a slave, and secretly she hoped that someday it would be true. But the lessons soon grew less frequent when Freya mother took ill.

With their mother having given permission, she was allowed leave her duties. Meaning most days they rarely even saw her at all, save for Ivar who often stayed by her side as she tended to her mother. Learning what she could from the Villages healers in an attempt to help save her. Floki’s wife, Helga, was among one of the many who tried to heal the girls mother. But it simply was not meant too be.

“We have done all we can.” Helga had spoke with a heavy heart as she broke the news to Freya “She no longer suffers...she is with the God’s now.”

Ivar could still remember how helpless he felt as she sobbed brokenly against his chest that day. Knowing how alone she must have truly felt in that moment; and how he promised her that everything would be alright. That she would never be alone so long as he drew breath.

 

\------------------------------------------

 

Several years had since passed, Freya growing from the once meek, little girl into a beautiful young woman of many talents. Queen Aslaug even granting her more freedom, mostly to keep in Ivar’s company, but after much convincing on his part she was also allowed study beneath Helga to become a healer; and she did so diligently. She enjoyed being able to help others, as she could not help her own Mother, and that made her happy; and though no one else could see it through his well guarded emotions, it made Ivar happy too.

It was more than obvious most days, even a blind man could see that Ivar had feelings for her. Though he would deny it to the ends of the earth whenever one of his brothers, or anyone else for that fact, would bring it up. Claiming that feelings were useless and he had no need for them, when really the thing he feared the most, was a repeat of what had happened with Margrethe. 

He knew he would never be able to give Freya the things she deserved, or ever be able to please her in the ways that other men could. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help the feelings that only continued to grow with time.

“Why do you not just admit it already, Ivar?” Ubbe would often state sincerely. “A woman like her is not going to wait around forever.”

“You know as well as I do, why, brother.” Ivar would reply harshly. 

“Maybe it would be different with Freya? You care for her. You did not have feelings for Margrethe.”

But Ivar would simply pretend that he didn’t hear his older brother. Who knows, maybe Ubbe was right? Maybe things could be different with her. But that wasn’t a risk he was willing to take. 

Though that did not mean that Ivar did not get jealous of other men’s affections towards Freya. It not only angered him to watch other men flirt with her, especially at feasts or celebrations, but it also caused him a great deal of pain as well. It pained him to see another man make her happy, too make her smile. It hurt to think of the future she might someday have; slave or not, his greatest fear was that someday he would return from a raid, and she would no longer be his. At least not in the way he wanted her to be.

That was Ivar’s greatest fear, and the only one that Freya would never know about. 

But little did he know...she already knew.


	2. Chapter 2

The day started off just like any other. 

Freya and the other girls were up before the sun, preparing the morning meal and completing other various chores around the Lothbrok home. She helped ready Queen Aslaug, just as she had been entrusted to, many times before. She brought her breakfast, laid out her dress for the day, and plaited a number of small, intricate braids into her hair; always finishing by mid-morning. The Queen would always thank and dismiss her with a smile. Leaving her to the remainder of her day, which was usually spent with Helga.

But today, their usual work took up less time than usual. There were few people for them to tend too, and they were well stocked on the many herbs and other various materials they used for their work; and Helga’s garden had been tended to several days prior, which left the remainder of the afternoon open for little work.

“Go.” Helga insisted with a smile. “There is no sense in sitting around, wasting a perfectly beautiful day.”

“Are you sure?” Freya asked? “I don’t mind staying if you need me too.” Helga simply laughed and shook her head, earning her a confused look. 

“You work enough as it is already.” She assured Freya. “Go enjoy an afternoon. I am sure if you know where too look, you’ll find the brother’s causing some form of mischief somewhere.” 

And sure enough, Helga was right. As Freya wandered farther into the woods towards the small clearing, she could hear the familiar sounds of metal striking metal as the brother’s sparred. Noting as she approached the treeline, that they still left her things in their usual spot against one of the many large trees.

Ubbe was the first to catch sight of her, grinning wildly but choosing not to give away her presence as she nocked an arrow and drew back the bowstring. Watching as she held steady for several seconds before taking her opening and loosing it in the direction of Hvitserk and Sigurd; watching as they leap apart, startled as it struck the tree beside them. Ubbe laughing heartily at their expressions as they turned, ready to skin whoever fired the arrow alive. Their expressions softening when they caught sight of Freya as she emerged into the clearing from the trees. Bowing several times as she laughed.

“Have you lost your mind?!” Sigurd questioned, eyes still wide with shock before they narrowed themselves at Ivar who was trying to control his laughter along with Ubbe. “You’ve not shot that thing in years! You could have killed one of us!” 

Freya scoffed, rolling her eyes at him as she planted her hands against her hips firmly.

“If I do so recall correctly, Sigurd, I never miss.” She replied, green gaze narrowed briefly before widening; a small startled shriek leaving her lips as she was swept up off the ground and thrown over, she was guessing Hvitserk’s, shoulder. Flailing her hands wildly against his leather clad back and she demanded to be put down. Knowing they remembered good and well she always hated when they did that.

“Hvitserk, I swear to the God’s! I will castrate you right here and now if you do not--” Her sentence was cut short as he dropped her small frame to the hard ground below. The harsh ‘THUD’ of her rear connecting with the ground echoing through the clearing as their laughter ceased.

“I think I would run run if I were you, Brother.” Ivar stated with a devilish grin as he watched Freya’s face turn red, all the way to the tip of her ears.

“You forget, I’m a better shot when I’m angry.” She stated seriously as she climbed to her feet, brushing the dirt and grass from her skirts.

“I-I didn’t- I mean I- I just- ...” Hvitserk stumbled over his words as Freya glared at him.

“I think what bone-head here means, is we are excited to see you.” Ubbe stated, patting his younger brothers shoulder reassuringly with a grin before scooping Freya up himself into a bone crushing hug. Setting her down after a few seconds of trying to struggle out of his grip, next to Ivar.

“Which begs the real question here,” Ivar stated as he elbowed her in the ribs playfully. “Why are you not with Helga?” 

“Because,” She replied, pushing back against him with her shoulder. “There was very little for us to do this morning, therefore, I have an afternoon with nothing to do.” 

“I think we can change that.” Ivar grinned as he held up his sword for her to take. Watching as she practically bounced out of her seat with excitement, snatching the blade from his hand, spinning gracefully into a fighting stance as she challenged Hvitserk.

\--------------------------------------------

The afternoon worn on with the clash of swords and laughter as the boys taught her new techniques and helped her brush up on past ones. Oh how Freya had missed this. It was rare that she saw them much anymore; save for evening meals, when they usually joined their mother for a few short hours. It was refreshing to join them like this, as she once did when they were children. It felt amazing to have that small freedom back, even if it was only for a short time. She would enjoy it to it’s fullest.

The day was warm, and soon her muscles ached with exhaustion from the mock combat moves they performed repeatedly for several hours. Her feet thanking her when they finally decided enough was enough and ventured down to the small river inlet to cool off. Freya was even to exhausted to be mad when Ubbe pitched her into the water, still fully clothed. 

She finally emerged back to land sometime later, sopping wet and grinning mischievously, noting that Ivar to be the only one still in her company. He was also completely unaware of what was about to happen as she crept quietly out of the water and around the log where he sat comfortably in the shade with his eyes closed. A startled yelp escaping his lips as the sopping wet mass tackled him in to the ground. Freya giggling hysterically as they rolled to a stop, Ivar landing on top of her with a menacing glare. Though the look had the opposite affect as she only laughed harder, Ivar rolling his eyes in annoyance as he pushed himself over into the grass.

“Oh come on, Ivar. I’m just having fun.” She giggled, standing and striping her wet clothes off, leaving on only a thin knee length shift as she hung the rest up to dry in the sun. Laying back down on her belly, in the grass beside Ivar. 

“We have two very different ideas of fun.” He replied, suppressing a smirk as he propped himself up with his hands behind him, shifting as Freya rolled between his legs and made herself comfortable in his lap. A contented sigh leaving her lips as his fingers found their way to her hair, toying with the long dark curls that spiraled past her shoulders.

“If you say so.” She yawned lazily, green eyes opening to gaze up into those of familiar sapphire blue before closing again as she relaxed. Enjoying the comfortable silence that fell between them; nearly nodding off until he spoke sometime later, startling her eyes open once more.

“You should come with me too Wessex.” He watched as her brows knit together in a brief moment of confusion, green eyes searching his own, trying to judge if he was being serious or not. 

“And why ever would you want me to do such a thing?” She asked, now straddling his lap to better look at him, semi convinced of his serious...but still somewhat skeptical as she narrowed her gaze at him.

“We need the extra Healers, for one.” He shrugged. “It is a lot handle for only Tovi and Helga. They are the most trained, aside from you now.”

“And?” She pressed, knowing that couldn’t possibly be the only reason he’d be asking.

“And I think it would be good for you to see more than just Kattegat.” He added. “Just because you are technically a slave, does not mean you can’t travel.” 

“I don’t know.” Freya sighed as she relaxed a little, though her gaze was still skeptical.

“You only need answer yes or no.” He replied. “I will take care of the rest. At least promise me you’ll think about it?” She nodded in response but said no more, sighing as she realized the sun was starting it’s decent into early evening, and that she should be getting back. 

Pushing herself to her feet, she pulled on her now mostly dry clothes before extending her hand out to Ivar; helping him to his feet and handing him the crutch that aided his walking nowadays. Allowing him to lean some of his weight on her as they walked back to the Village in comfortable silence. Though Freya couldn’t stop her mind from wandering back to their previous conversation. 

It being the only thing on her mind for the remainder of the evening after they parted ways; and well into the night as she tossed and turned, the welcoming embrace of sleep, held just far enough out of her reach by the many questions that had begun to surface in her mind.

Was he telling the truth?

Did they really need more healers?

Why was this different than any other trip?

Was he really that afraid of losing her to someone else?

Surly taking her into battle couldn’t be much better...could it? Twice as many Viking men --lonely and aroused by gore and violence-- to contend with. Not that she saw herself venturing far from his side in such a situation. Why not just admit his feelings? She knew they were there, buried beneath his rough exterior. He wasn’t fooling anyone, no matter how much he thought he was. Even his own Mother could see it. Whether he wanted her too or not was a different story.

The endless possibilities were enough to drive her mad with exhaustion. But sleep still hung just out of her grasp as the faint light of a new day began to dawn. Leaving her even more vexed than she had been all night. Grumbling under her breath crankily as she dressed for the new day, knowing it would be twice as long due to not getting any sleep.

“Damn you Ivar Lothbrok.”


	3. Chapter 3

Several week had passed since Ivar brought up taking Freya to Wessex with him. Though he had not since mentioned it to her, he repeatedly brought it up with his mother. Knowing that sooner or later, she would grow tired of his asking and cave, letting him have his way like she always did. It didn’t take much convincing on his part, either. Which he briefly considered odd, but he wasn’t going to argue the matter.

“If it is that important too you...take her.” Aslaug shrugged. The faint hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “She’s yours.” 

That was all Ivar needed to hear. 

He spent the next two weeks afterwards down at the Blacksmith’s, making preparations for the upcoming journey. Knowing that while his mother had been easy to convince, Freya would likely not give him such satisfaction, if he asked twice. She was always good at presenting him with a challenge in some way; and this would be no different. But this time, he had planned to be one step ahead of her.

Biding his time, day after day, until he had everything prepared. Ships had begun arriving from all over, and Freya’s excitement was hard to hide by this point. Her vast curiosity of the Boat’s and the Seas they sailed on, getting the better of her. 

Floki only continued to add fuel to flame as he indulged her with stories of past travels while herself and Helga helped him ready the last of the boats he had recently finished building. Things were falling together nicely, and Ivar felt his plan was ready to be set into motion, and soon.

\--------------------------------------------------

The village of Kattegat was busy with preparations for the upcoming celebrations that were to take place before the raids. Which meant there was twice as much work for Freya and Helga, as people seemed to be injuring themselves left and right. 

The weather had become unbearably warm by mid-day as they milled about, treating patients, and restocking supplies once they had finally finished for the day. Helga dismissing Freya, who all but collapsed underneath the nearest shade tree, prying her shoes from her feet with a relieved sigh as she fell back into the grass; eyes closed as she enjoyed the faint breeze the drifted across her face gently, lulling her into relaxation. At least for a few brief moments, before she was interrupted with something pointy being jabbed between her ribs, startling her upright with a wide eyed expression. Frowning deeply as Ivar chuckled.

“Ugh.” Was all Freya managed to reply in greeting before flopping back onto the grass, shielding her face with her arm.

“Nice to see you too.” He replied, poking her again, this time earning a growl as she propped herself up.

“What?” Freya sighed as she glared up at him. 

“Come with me. I have something for you.” He grinned, leaning against the tree as he waited. 

“Can’t it wait till later?” She whined, sitting up and slapping his crutch away before it could be jabbed between her ribs again. “Fine!” She snapped as she scampered to her feet and out of reach of Ivar’s crutch.

“I promise it’s worth it.” He added, extending his free arm for her to take. Silence falling between them as they walked along the treeline, eventually reaching his home. Ivar opening the door and gesturing for her to enter before stepping in behind her. “Close your eyes.”

“Ivar...” She whined, not really in the mood for surprises, but did as she was told any way as she covered her eyes with her hand. Listening to his movements around the front room as she waited impatiently. Several minutes passing before she felt his presence beside her again.

“You may open them now.” 

Freya allowed her hand to fall away from her eyes as she opened them, feeling them widen as she caught sight of leather armor that was laid out before her on the table. She moved, fingers immediately reaching out to explore the intricate detailing on the breastplate; in complete awe of the delicate detailing of each piece. Pausing briefly after a few moments, turning to look at Ivar with a confused expression.

“You have yet to give me an answer about Wessex.” He shrugged. “I didn’t want you to be unprepared, should you say yes.”

“Ivar.” Freya answered softly, eyes turning from the armor to the sapphire blue gaze that was watching her intently. “It’s beautiful, really...but I can’t accept this...” 

“Actually, you can.” He replied, earning him a confused look. Grinning slyly as he watched her glance back to the armor. 

“And just how do you figure that?” She replied dryly, one hand moving to her hip as she raised a questioning eyebrow at him. “I don’t see your mother being pleased with such an extravagant gift to a slave...no matter how much she may like me.”

“Well then,” Ivar grinned, looking down at Freya as he took a step closer. “I guess it is a good thing you no longer work for my mother.”

“And just who do I work for now.” Freya narrowed her green eyes up at the youngest Ragnarsson. Crossing her arms over her chest tightly as she awaited an answer. Not at all prepared for the one that she received.

“Me.” He replied, chuckling softly as he stared down at Freya’s shocked expression. Tipping his head to the side with a reassuring smile as he gestured towards the armor. 

“Now, go try it on...I want to make sure it fits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freya's Armor


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one is kinda short. Things will be picking up in the next few chapters!

A strangled gasp for air left Freya’s lips as she was knocked to the ground, yet again, by Hvitserk. All the air having been forced from her lungs by the impact of his shield colliding with her chest; along with the newly added weight of the Armor Ivar had made for her, that she was now required to wear during these little training sessions. The voyage for Wessex was nearing, and Ivar was determined that Freya know how to protect herself. 

She had basic knowledge of course. As she had been sparring with the Ragnarsson’s since they were children. But it had always been more or less for practice or fun. Freya had never had to physically defend herself before…and it wasn’t going well.

“Again.” Ivar stated, not even looking up as he motioned for Ubbe to trade places with Hvitserk. Both exchanged concerned glances with each other as they noted the still winded Freya shakily getting to her feet.

“I am in no way trying to tell you what to do, Ivar…but, I think we should probably stop before we kill the poor girl.” Ubbe stated, pointing to Freya who looked like she was on the verge of blacking out. 

“I…can…handle…it.” Freya panted, waving the comment off as she tried to pick up her shield off the ground, dropping it several times before finally getting it on her arm.

Ivar, who honestly hadn’t been paying much attention up until that point, looked up from the chunk of wood in his hand that he’d been whittling at for the last few hours. Frowning at the sight of Freya who was currently doubled over, pain and exhaustion evident on her face, even though she was trying her best to hide it. 

After a few moments of thought, Ivar nodded in agreement with Ubbe. Grabbing his crutch, he hoisted himself to his feet, taking several steps until he was standing directly in front of her. Lifting the shield out of her grip with ease and setting it down gently next to the rest of their equipment.

“We will try again tomorrow.” “He stated, looking down at her. “Go home.” 

Freya nodded, her eyes downcast as she tried her best to hide the disappointment she felt towards her failure. But she knew better than to argue the matter. Especially with Ivar. So without another word, she left the brothers in the clearing and made her way back towards Ivar’s home. 

She carefully stripped out of her Armor once she got there and cleaned herself up before changing and set to work preparing food for that evening. Noting the abundance of fresh bruises that adorned her skin from the past few days of hard training. Freya sighed deeply, her eyebrows knitting together in frustrations as she worked. 

She felt as though she was somehow failing everyone by not being able to defend herself the way that she should be able too. But she was only a Slave after all, and it was such a short amount of time for them to be asking so much of her; especially Ivar, and that only seemed to make the whole situation worse. 

It had been his idea to bring her along to Wessex…his idea to put her through the paces of being able to fight and defend herself if it came down to it. Freya knew it was his way of trying to protect her, but in all honesty, she couldn’t help but feel a little angry that he’d waited this long. Knowing first hand that while she was a deadly shot with a bow, she was far from perfect with a sword, and had never in her life used a real shield before. 

But nevertheless, she wanted to prove herself…and that was what frustrated her the most. She had never really been about proving herself in the past, especially to Ivar; she knew that too he and his brothers, that she was more than just the Slave that most people saw her as. But this time, something was different?

This time, she actually cared what they thought…

This time…she cared what Ivar thought.

——————————–

It was late by the time Ivar finally returned home. He half expected Freya to still be up as usual, but instead found her curled up on the furs beside the fire sound asleep. Things were picked up and tidier than usual, and their evening meal still sat on the table. Everything still untouched as she had most likely fallen asleep while waiting for him to get back first. 

Ivar frowned, feeling guilty for making her wait. He knew how hard they were pushing her during training’s and how exhausted she was by the end of the day…yet she still attended to her usual duties without complaint; and while he knew it was her job as a Slave, it bothered him that she put everyone else’s needs before her own. 

He had made it very clear from the start that she did not need to wait for him in order to eat. But she did so anyways. All the years of serving his Mother, he knew that it was simply ingrained in her, just as it was any other Slave. They ate last, and that’s all there was too it. Most of the time they compromised and ate together, Freya usually listening intently as Ivar talked about his day or told her some elaborate story she was sure to have heard a thousand times already; yet she would still listen intently. 

He sighed to himself quietly, covering Freya with one of the furs before lowering himself into a chair at the table, feeling obligated to at least eat first before falling into bed himself. Knowing that tomorrow was a new day, and that he had come up with a plan that would hopefully better Freya’s fighting abilities. ‘Fore tomorrow marked that beginning of the celebrations that lead up their departure. He only hoped that she would be ready by then.

Knowing that he would never forgive himself if something were to happen.


	5. Chapter 5

Freya was up early the following morning, even though she was exhausted and her body ached something awful. She went about her duties as usual, having breakfast finished and Ivar’s things ready for the day before he woke. She had learned quickly in her first few days there, that unlike his Mother, he was fiercely independent. Something that she had yet to grow used to.

She usually stuck to only helping with what was asked of her…with the few exceptions of things she still did, regardless of Ivar telling her it wasn’t necessary. She did her best to not over step her boundaries too much though. Respecting that there were certain things he just didn’t want help with from anyone. 

That morning was one of the rare occasions where he actually did request help though. Freya was caught off guard at first, but quickly obliged at his request for help with the braces he wore that aided his walking. Her fingers managing to coax the difficult latches into their respective places after a bit of work; noting Ivar’s level of discomfort out of the corner of her eye, but she bit her tongue. Knowing better than to test his temper this early on in the morning.

Things remained quiet between them until sometime later after breakfast. Freya had just finished plaiting his hair, and was in the midst of cleaning up the mess from breakfast when Ivar finally spoke. Free hand holding out her Armor for her to take. Freya staring at it with a frown before looking up to meet the sapphire blue gaze that stared at her intently. 

“Put it on.” 

Freya’s frown deepened, but she took the Armor from his hand, working on the individual pieces. Ivar moving to cinch down the buckles along her sides, chuckling as she groaned in discomfort. Her muscles seeming to ache worse at the thought of more training.

“I do not know why you’re wasting your time trying to train me.” She sighed halfheartedly as she turned to face him, allowing him to adjust the Armor where it needed it. “I’m a lost cause with a sword…you know that as well as I do.”

“Maybe.” Ivar shrugged. “Maybe not.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?” Freya huffed in frustration.

“It means,” Ivar replied, taking a step closer as he closed the gap between them; stern expression on his face as he stared down at her, though the hit of reassurance in his eyes betrayed him. “You need to shut your mouth and trust me.”

Freya narrowed her gaze up at him briefly before letting out an exasperated sigh. “Fine.”

“Good.” He smirked down at her. “Because I have someone for you to meet.”

 

————————————

 

The walk was long and the silence between them hung heavy. Freya could feel the anxiety building in her chest as they moved deeper into the forest. Unsure of what exactly Ivar had in store for her…but she was almost certain it wasn’t anything she was going to enjoy. 

Sounds of steel clashing with steel soon broke the silence as they approached another clearing. The sounds of shouting grew louder as they broke through the treeline; Freya stopping just behind Ivar as she took in the sight of the mock battle that was in full swing before them.

Her mouth fell open slightly, wonder filling her senses as she watched the Women before her move with such grace and agility. They made it look so simple.

The battle was brought to a halt as an older blonde woman caught sight of them; holding a hand up to signal the others as she shouted orders above the noise. Turning towards Freya and Ivar once things had stopped, and making her way across the open clearing to stand in front of them. Bowing slightly to Ivar before offering a friendly smile to Freya, who was more or less hiding behind him at this point wringing her hands nervously. 

“So this is her?” The woman asked, smile still present on her face as she peered around the youngest Ragnarsson. Ivar taking the liberty of stepping aside and pulling Freya forward with a nod. Squeezing her shoulder reassuringly before taking a step back. “She looks promising. What is your name, girl?”

Freya looked to Ivar briefly, apprehension evident below the surface, though she masked it well. Ivar nodded, gesturing toward the woman as he leaned forward on against his crutch.

“Freya.” She replied, straightening herself as she tried to look less nervous than she felt. The blonde woman chuckled softly.

“It is a pleasure, Freya.” The woman replied, reaching out and taking Freya’s hand gently. “I am Lagertha.” 

It was then that it clicked exactly what was happening and who this person before her was. She was Ragnar Lothbrok’s first wife, the famous Shieldmaiden. Freya’s eyes widened slightly as realization hit her. Lagertha smiled.

“It is my understanding that you are in need of training?” She added, Freya nodding in response, looking down at her feet sheepishly. “Do not worry, you are in good hands.” Lagertha reassured, motioning for two other women to step forward. “Astrid and Torvi will get you set up with proper equipment.”

Freya stepped forward towards them, turning for a brief moment to look up at Ivar, who smiled faintly and dismissed her with a wave of his hand. Turning his attention back to Lagertha who still stood before him.

“How long do you think it will take?” He asked. 

“How long do you have?” Lagertha smiled.

 

————————————

 

The first night Freya returned to Ivar’s home, battered and bruised. Torvi and Helga helping to support her as they brought her inside, lowering her onto the bed carefully to keep her from completely collapsing from exhaustion as they stripped her out of her armor. 

Ivar chuckled quietly at her loud protests from the next room over, insisting that she could take care of herself. The statement was followed by the loud ‘SPLASH’ of her being shoved unwillingly into the bath he had made sure was ready upon her return.

Her protesting didn’t end there though…Freya was sure to voice her opinion loudly for the next several hours as Helga attended to her wounds. Fussing that she had too many things to do, even though Ivar had ordered her she was to do none of it.

“I am fine.” She ground out between clenched teeth as Helga stitched the small wound on her shoulder. Ivar rolling his eyes in annoyance as he reached across the table, catching her jaw in his hand firmly, gaining her full attention as he forced her gaze up to meet his own.

“And I do not care.” He stated firmly. “You will do as you are told, and nothing less. Understood?” 

Freya swallowed harshly, casting her gaze down to escape the intensity of the blue eyes that bore into her own. Deciding it best to refrain from saying anymore, she simply nodded.

“Good.” Ivar loosened his grip, thumb brushing along her jawline softly as he pulled his hand away as he leaned back in his seat. Gaze still fixed on her face as Helga finished her work. Bidding them both goodnight before leaving. 

Freya winced noticeably as she straightened herself in her seat, pulling the sleeve of her sleep gown up over her shoulder and tightening the laces on the front. Her annoyance with Ivar and the current situation evident in her body language, but she remained tight lipped, avoiding his gaze as he stood and offered her a hand. Supporting his own weight against the crutch he held as he helped her stand, slipping his hand around her waist as they limped their way to her room.

“You may hate me all you want now.” Ivar sighed as they stopped just short of her bed. His hand moving to tilt her chin up to look at him again. The gesture more gentle this time around as he brushed a few stands of dark brown curls behind away from her face. Freya’s fierce green gaze coming up to meet his, her brows knit together in pain and frustration. 

“I promise it will be worth it.” He added. “All I ask, is that you trust me.” 

Freya heaved a heavy sigh, but nodded. There had never not been a time in her life where she didn’t trust Ivar, and this would no doubt prove to be any different. 

Ivar smiled softly, retracting his hand as he looked down at Freya who was avoiding his gaze again. Arms crossed tightly over her chest as he turned to leave the room, pausing with his hand on the door as he turned to look over his should briefly.

“Goodnight, Freya.” 

 

———————————–

 

The next week passed by in a blur of exhaustion, blood, sweat and tears. Lagertha pushing Freya harder each day. Harder than the Ragnarsson’s ever had in the past; but given the limited window of time they had to train her, she knew it was necessary. Using her frustration to push herself hard and harder each time one of the other girls bested her.

On this particular day, Lagertha had her fighting against some of her best Shieldmaiden’s, testing what she had learned so far. Seeming pleased with the progress as she bested several of the female warriors, Torvi included. 

The true challenge came when Lagertha pitted Freya against Astrid. Watching as the younger girl grew more and more frustrated each time she lost; Astrid knocking her shield free before sweeping her feet out from under her, sword halting just inches from her throat each time.

It was easy to see that Freya’s frustration was getting the better of her; her anger building more and more with each losing blow. Choosing to let her rage build instead of learning from the small mistakes she hadn’t taken note of making. 

It was late in the afternoon when Ivar arrived in the clearing. Taking a seat next to Lagertha as he watched Freya fall, defeated, blow after painful blow. Frowning deeply as the Astrid grew more aggressive with each defeat, challenging Freya to push herself harder, to correct her mistakes.

“Her anger is blinding her.” Lagertha sighed in annoyance, moving to step in, having finally seen enough. But she stopped when Ivar put a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back into her seat as he leaned forward in anticipation. Catching what everyone else didn’t as Freya climbed to her feet. 

She allowed her shield to fall away from her grasp on the third blow; pulling the ax from her belt, crossing her weapons and catching Astrid’s sword as she blocked with them, yanking the weapon free before planting a foot to her opponents chest. The scream that ripped from Freya’s chest as she kicked Astrid backwards, enough to send a chill down Ivar’s spine. 

Freya’s chest rose and fell rapidly with each breath, ax pressed to a stunned Astrid’s throat as she straddled her. Broken free from her rage induced trance a few seconds later by the sound of clapping. Pulling back to see Ivar and Lagertha, grinning proudly as they approached. Freya pushing herself to her feet, extending a hand out as she pulled Astrid to her feet. 

Her muscles burned as she turned to face Ivar and Lagertha, straightening herself as she took a deep breath. Caught off guard by the devilish grin that had crept onto Ivar’s lips.

“I think it time we celebrate.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, sorry I haven't been very active lately...I've had a lot going on recently. Chapter 7 will be up soon as well.
> 
> CHAPTER WARNINGS: Public whipping, brief descriptions of blood…angst…yeah…this chapter turned out a littler darker than originally intended o.O 
> 
> SHOUT OUTS:   
>  The Memsahib  
> [LadyJoker_HAHA](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyJoker_HAHA/pseuds/LadyJoker_HAHA)
> 
> Thank you guys for your comments, as well as your patience! I suck at life sometimes. But anywho, I really hope you're enjoying this story so far!

By early evening the Great Hall was packed with people of every kind, as they began the final Feast and celebrations before their departure for Wessex. Ivar had insisted that Freya abstain from her duties for the evening, and though reluctant, she finally agreed. Ivar smirking triumphantly sometime later when she emerged from her room, attempting to hide behind the two other slave girls, and Helga, who had helped get her ready. 

“I look ridicules…” She mumbled quietly as her fingers fidgeted nervously with the dark blue material of her dress, Green eyes cast down, looking everywhere but up to make contact with the intense Sapphire gaze that was transfixed on her. Ivar scoffed and rolled his eyes as he approached her, grasping her chin lightly and forcing her to look up finally. 

“Hardly.” He replied as he extended his free arm out for her to take. Freya sighing deeply as she took it. “As a matter of fact, I did not expect you would clean up so nice.” He laughed, flinching as Freya turned to punch him in the arm. 

“I’m being serious…” Freya frowned as they made their way slowly to the Great Hall. “I’m a Slave, Ivar, not a Princess.” Her frown deepened as she glanced away, Ivar stopping and pulling them aside for a moment as he looked down at her with a frown. 

“And you are worried what people are going to think?” He questioned. 

“To put it lightly.” She stated quietly. “Everyone already talks because you treat me differently.” 

“And what should it matter to them?” He replied. “You might be a Slave, but you are also my friend, and how I choose to treat you is of no concern to anyone else. Understood?” Freya nodded, taking his arm as they started walking again. 

While Ivar had a point, it didn’t make Freya worry any less. There were several other Slave girls she worked around that wouldn’t think twice about making her life hell…she’d always been judged as being ‘The family favorite’. Ever since Ivar’s Mother had taken it upon herself to take her under her wing when she was a young girl. Teaching her their ways, their language, educating her. She was far from being like the rest of the Slave’s in Kattegat; and the person who despised her the most for it? Margrethe. Especially now that she was a free woman, who just to happened to be married to Ivar’s older brother Ubbe. 

She had always taken it upon herself to make Freya’s life hell, and for the most part it was manageable. But recently, since Ivar had taken charge of her Freya’s ownership, Margrethe had taken it upon herself to spread rumor after rumor. Most of which Freya ignored, but in recent weeks, she had begun to notice how differently people were treating her…and she knew this would only make it worse. 

——————————————-

As the night wore on, Freya’s prediction of how people would react had so far proven to be correct. If the other Slave girls could glare at her any harder, she was fairly certain she would most likely burst into flame. It made the atmosphere unbearably heavy, and soon she began to feel as though she may suffocate if she didn’t step outside for some fresh air. 

Excusing herself from the table, she pushed her way through the crowds of people until she was outside. Inhaling the cool air deeply, exhaling shakily as she moved away from the Great Hall, walking until she found a quiet place to sit for a while and clear her head. But the moment was short lived as the silence was soon broken by the sound of a child’s sobbing. Prompting Freya to search for the source of the sound, finding a small girl hiding behind some grain sacks a few buildings down. Knees drawn to her chest as she sobbed into them.

“Are you alright?” Freya questioned as she knelt in front of the child, reaching out gently to touch the girls arm, giving both of them a start as the girl screamed and sprung to her feet. “Shh, shh, I’m not going to hurt you! What is the matter, Child?!” 

“Please,” The little girl sobbed, burying her face against the skirts of Freya’s dress. “Do not let them find me!” 

“Let who find you? What has happened?” Freya questioned, kneeling down and pulling the girl out to arms length, noting the dark bruise that had formed on her tiny cheek.

“P-P-Princess M-Margrethe.” The little girl stuttered out between sobs as she looked up, the fear in her eye’s causing Freya’s stomach to twist into knots.

“What has happened?” Freya pressed her lightly for an answer. The little girl hesitated, biting her lip as she contemplated whether or not she could trust her. But after a few moments of silence, she reached a small hand into the apron of her dress and pulled from it a small Silver necklace.

“S-She say’s I-I s-stole it.” The little girl sobbed again.

“Did you?” Freya questioned gently, giving the girls arm a reassuring squeeze as she shook her head no furiously. 

“N-No, I p-promise!” The girl sobbed. “B-But no one b-believes m-me!” 

“I believe you.” Freya replied with a soft smile, standing and extending a hand to the small girl. “Come. Let us go speak with Queen Aslaug and fix this.” The girl nodded, wiping her nose on her sleeve before reaching out and taking Freya’s hand as they started walking. 

“There! There she is!” 

The voice came from behind them, and in an instant, the little girl was a sobbing mess again as they turned around, greeted by Margrethe and several Shieldmaiden guards. Freya pushed the little behind her as they approached, pocketing the necklace before crossing her arms over her chest.

“That’s the Brat that stole my necklace!” Margrethe pointed and the little girl sobbed harder.

“This is low, even for you, Margrethe.” Freya stated, eyes narrowed at the young woman across from her. 

“This doesn’t concern you…Slave.” Margrethe countered, smirking coldly as she glared back. Motioning for the Shieldmaiden’s to seize the girl from Freya, who shot them a warning glance, causing them to stop momentarily. 

“You know as well as I do, that this girl didn’t steal anything.” Freya replied. “This is low, even for you, stooping to picking on an innocent child.” 

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” Margrethe replied, taking on a tone of innocence as people started to gather around them, curious as to what was happening; Ivar, Ubbe, and the Queen were soon among the crowd, pushing their way to the front as they watched the confrontation between the two women and the small terrified child, who was now being pried away from Freya by another guard who had approached them from behind.

“I want her punished to the full extent!” Margrethe exclaimed, somewhat childishly herself as she turned to the Queen who nodded, motioning for everyone to carry-on with the celebration. Stopping only when Freya spoke again. The words leaving her mouth without a second thought.

“You cannot punish her for a crime she did not commit!” 

“And why not? Do you have proof?” Aslaug spoke, raising a questioning brow at her use to be Slave. Waiting expectantly for an answer, an answer that no one was expecting. Several people gasping among the crowd as Freya pulled the necklace from her own dress pocket.

“Because I am the one who took it.”

Margrethe’s eyes widened in shock as she looked from Freya to the Queen, who was now looking at her expectantly. Ivar stepped forward with a sneer but remained quiet as his mother silenced him with a harsh look before returning her attention to Margrethe.

“Very well…” Aslaug spoke. “Do you still wish punishment to the fullest extent?” Margrethe swallowed audibly, glancing briefly at Ivar before turning her attention to Freya and nodding slowly.

With a wave of the Queen’s hand, Freya was suddenly being seized by two large men and drug towards a platform that sat in the middle of Kattegat. The larger of the two men kicking her in the back of the leg to drop her to her knees once there. Turning around to await further orders as the crowed gathered around the platform. Freya closing her eyes and taking a deep breath as she waited. Hearing Ivar’s voice above the murmur of the crowd as they approached, flinching as she heard the thud of him throwing his crutch aside as he dropped and drug himself up onto the platform.

“What in the name of the God’s are you doing, Woman?!” He hissed when he reached her, snatching the ropes from the man standing in front of them as he awaited an answer.

“The right thing…” 

Ivar’s expression softened for brief moment as he grabbed her wrist, an apologetic look sat just behind the fierce Blue eyes that locked with her own. But as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. The softened expression returning to it’s usual stone like state as he voided himself of all emotion; save for the angry that now burned through his veins like fire and he tied each of Freya’s wrists with the rope he’d been given. Securing them to the posts that lie on either side of them, before disappearing back into the crowd. The larger of the two men before her bent and ripped the thin fabric of her dress, exposing the flesh of her back before uncoiling the whip that was to be her punishment.

“How many?” Aslaug’s voice spoke from behind her as she questioned Margrethe.

“W-What?” Margrethe stuttered in reply.

“How many lashes is she to receive as punishment?” Aslaug snapped impatiently.

“I…um…” Margrethe hesitated. “T-Twelve…”

The man with the whip grunted in reply, taking a step back as he readied his hand and waited for his signal to begin. Freya twisted her hands to grip the restraints that bound her, tightly, as she closed her eyes…inhaling sharply as the sting of the first blow struck across her shoulder blades, but she remained quiet. Refusing to give the crowd the satisfaction they so desperately were waiting for. 

Her mind faded further and further into distant memories with each strike that landed across her back, cutting into flesh and painting her delicate skin crimson. One after the other. Time felt as though it had slowed to a crawl…each blow seeming slower than the last. Several stray tears managed to slip from her eyes as she squeezed them tighter. The heavy hands of unconsciousness grasping and pulling her deeper and deeper into their depths…finally succeeding and pulling her into darkness as the last strike twelfth strike landed it’s mark… 

And everything fell silent.

——————————————— 

Everything after that moment was a blur of concerned faces and hushed whispering. Pain. Darkness. Repeat. 

Floki carried Freya back to Ivar’s; sending Hvitserk to fetch Helga and Torvi who arrived shortly after and began to clean the wounds quickly, knowing that she wouldn’t remain unconscious for much longer, Helga ordered Floki and Hvitserk to keep her still.

The sound of Freya’s screams could be heard from several houses away as Ivar approached. His stomach clenched and twisted at the sound, causing him to throw his crutch aside, knowing he’d get there faster if he crawled; Ubbe picking it up as he was following closely behind. Pushing the door to Ivar’s home open, taking a step back momentarily at the sight, Ivar taking the chance to push his way inside. Regretting it almost instantly. 

Her back still bled freely as Helga and Torvi struggled to work to simultaneously clean and stitching the wounds as Freya had become mostly conscious. Confused and hysterical as she incoherently struggled against being held down. 

Ivar pulled himself into the chair that was sat next to the table where she was laid on, not thinking twice as he grabbed her hand and squeezed, frantic emerald eyes locking with his as the action grabbed her attention. Quieting her actions, even if just for a moment. 

“The more you struggle, the more it is going to hurt. Lie still.” He ordered gently, pressing his forehead against hers as she tightened her grip on his hand, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. Whimpering softly as she tried to keep as still as possible. 

Ivar closed his own eyes as he tried to wrap his mind around what happened. One moment they were enjoying the evenings celebrations, the next, he’s being ordered to tie her up so she can be publicly whipped for something he knew she didn’t do…being forced to watch it as it happened, and wondering how she had managed to stay so calm. Peaceful, even. 

Trying to understand her selfless actions physically made his head hurt.

“Hurry up.” He growled impatiently sometime later, falling silent again as Helga shot him a warning look before returning to her work. Ivar turning his attention back to Freya, reassuring her every so often that they wouldn’t be much longer; and judging that by her rapidly loosening grip on his hand, he knew she was about to lose consciousness again.

And she did.

“Is she going to be alright?” Hvitserk asked hesitantly as Helga and Torvi were cleaning up sometime later. Helga glanced over to where they had laid Freya on Ivar’s bed beside the hearth, nodding.

“Yes.” She replied. Her voice heavy with exhaustion. “It will take time, but she will be alright.”

“And what of the little girl?” Floki questioned, catching Ivar’s attention. The room fell silent as no one seemed to know the answer. “Hm…I suppose we should find her.” He mused, turning toward the door and disappearing out into the dark. Ubbe and Hvitserk following behind him.

“I can stay if you wish?” Helga offered once everyone else had gone for the evening, but Ivar shook his head.

“No, it is alright.” He replied. “I will send for you when she wakes.” Helga nodded and gathered the rest of her things, leaving the essentials behind in case he needed them, before heading towards the door, stopping briefly when Ivar called after her, giving him a tired but reassuring smile as he thanked her.

“Goodnight, Ivar.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg...I am so sorry I haven't posted in forever! I thought I had posted the most recent chapters and must have totally spaced it!!!

“I do not think you should go.” Ivar leaned to one side casually, dodging the well aimed cup that was meant for his head. Glancing over his shoulder briefly as it collided with the wall behind him before clattering to the floor loudly; cocking an eyebrow at Freya, who sat clutching the furs to her chest with a scowl as Helga re-dressed her wounds.

‘If looks could kill.’ He thought to himself, rolling his eyes.

“I mean it.” He stated in a more serious tone. “You are I no condition-“

“My condition is none of your concern!” Freya snapped, cutting Ivar off before he could continue any further. “I will be damned if you leave me behind after all I have gone through to go.”

Fierce blue eyes narrowed at her tone as his lip twitched up into a snarl, closing the gap between them as he glared down. Freya straightened herself, expression unwavering and cold as she readied herself for the argument that was sure to ensue. 

“You do not get to tell me what to do, Slave.” Ivar snapped coldly, using the one word he knew would always draw a rise from Freya. But the reaction he received was not the one he had expected as she stood abruptly, free hand connecting with his left cheek; the sound echoing loudly within the silence of his home. 

“That is enough.” Helga snapped as she forced Freya back into her seat, turning to shoot Ivar a warning glance as he opened his mouth to speak. Closing it abruptly as the door opened behind him, turning as Floki entered.

“Am I interrupting?” He questioned, eyebrows raised as he tried to fend off an amused grin. 

“Floki…” There was a warning tone to Helga’s voice as she narrowed her gaze her her husband with a hand on her hip.

“Do not kill the messenger.” He chuckled, raising his hands defensively, trying to lighten the mood. “I am only here to tell you that we found the girl.” 

“Is she alright?!” Freya was on her feet again, reaching for her tunic. “Where is she-”

“Sit!” Helga and Ivar ordered at the same time. Ignoring the growl of frustration that slipped past Freya’s lips as she sat back down. Arms crossed tightly across her chest as she glared impatiently. 

“She is fine…” Floki shrugged. “Unfortunately, she will not come out from her hiding spot for anything or anyone.”

Freya opened her mouth to speak again but was silenced by the look that Ivar gave her, earning him a glare as he answered Floki. His own gaze never breaking away from the fiery green eyes that seemed as though they could burn right through him if he stared any longer.

“I will take care of it…”

Floki exchanged a worried look with Helga but nodded. 

“Follow me.” 

The room fell silent as the men exited the house. Helga returning to her work as she quickly finished tending to Freya’s back, helping her pull the tunic over her head when she was done.

“He is only trying to do what he thinks is best-” Helga paused as Freya held up a hand.

“Don’t.” Was the only word she uttered as she got to her feet and left the room. 

 

—————————————

 

Ivar was still silently fuming as he followed Floki down to the docks. There had been may fights between he and Freya since they were children; she had always been bold, but never had she physically struck him out of anger before. On one hand, it made him want to punish her in all the worst ways for being disobedient. After all, that was what one was supposed to do with a Slave, friend or not, wasn’t it?

But on the other hand, it filled him with a terrible sense of guilt that made him want to beg for her forgiveness. The thought was enough to make him roll his eyes. Perhaps he would simply punish her by leaving her behind after all…

“Any luck?” Floki questioned Ubbe and Hvitserk as they approached a small shack. The brothers shook their heads in response. 

“She is still hiding underneath the building.” Ubbe replied. Ivar rolled his eyes and approached the small hollowed out area of earth that lead under the old building in front of them. Tapping several times against the wood with his crutch. A matter of seconds passing by before the knocks were returned by a tiny fist against the wall on the other side.

“Out.” Ivar ordered sternly. The silence followed by a few small scuffling noises before the girl poked her head out from underneath the shack. Ivar snatching her by the back of her dress and turning her to face him before she could take off. “There is no need to run. No one is going to harm you.” 

The little girl glanced around at the men that surrounded her with a timid expression. Wringing her hands nervously, most likely expecting to still somehow be punished for the previous nights happenings.

“What is you name?” Ivar questioned, leaning forward on his crutch as he looked down at the child. 

“R-Runa.” She stuttered quietly. 

He nodded.

“Where are your parents?” 

“I d-don’t have a-any…” She replied quietly, her eyes fixed to the ground. Ivar frowned.

“Are you a slave?” He questioned and the girl shook her head no in response. “Are you telling me the truth?” 

“Y-Yes. And I p-promise I didn’t steal-” She stopped as Ivar held his hand up to silence her.

“I am aware.” He replied. “Come with me.” 

His brothers exchanged bewildered looks as the child agreed and followed closely behind him as they walked back up towards the village. Floki simply chuckled before tagging along as they walked back to Ivar’s.

The walk was short and silent. Ivar motioning for the girl to enter his home as he pushed the door open. Helga was still there, cleaning up from the previous nights events, but welcomed the girl with a warm smile as Ivar glanced around. Noting that Freya was no longer there. He turned his attention back to Helga.

“Helga, this is Runa.” He introduced, pushing the small girl towards her. “Would you mind?” Helga nodded, needing no further explanation as Ivar disappeared from the room. Opening the door to Freya’s room to find it empty, he ran a hand over his face and though his hair before turning back and exiting the house without another word.

 

——————————————–

“Do you enjoy being such a pain in my ass?” The voice came from behind and startled her; Freya turned, pulling her feet from the water as she looked up. Ivar stared down at her, one shoulder propped against a wooden post of the dock as he stared down at her. 

“If you are here to take me back home, the answer is no.” She replied flatly, ignoring his attempt at easing the tension between them.

“So what…you plan to sit here all night then?” 

Silence…

Ivar heaved a sigh. 

“Fine…If you feel you can make the journey, so be it.” He shrugged. “It is not worth the energy to fight with you over it, as I know you will simply disobey whatever I tell you to do anyway.” He added, moving to take a seat next to her. Wincing in the process of trying to find a comfortable position.

“I am sorry I hit you.” Freya mumbled reluctantly, her eyes still fixed on the horizon as Ivar stared at her.

“I will not say I did not deserve it.” He shrugged. 

“Is that supposed to be an apology?” Freya turned, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“If I agree, are you going to hit me again?” Ivar joked, flinching as her fist collided with his arm playfully, earning the smallest hint of a smile from her finally, silence falling between them for a short time before she spoke again.

“Are you really being serious? About me going?” Freya asked sometime later, gaining Ivar’s attention. “Because if I wake up tomorrow and you are gone, so help me I’ll-” The rest came out muffled as Ivar placed a hand over her mouth, earning him glare as she removed it. 

“Yes.” He sighed, rolling his eyes in annoyance as she smirked triumphantly. “But do not think that I won’t hesitate to throw you into the Sea if you die.” Ivar warned with a serious expression, though the note of sarcasm in his tone made Freya laugh.

“Oh, I have no doubt.” She mocked with a grin as she pushed herself to her feet. Wincing slightly as she straightened, ignoring the concerned frown that Ivar was giving her. But no more was said between them as she helped him to his feet and they made their way back to his home in silence.

 

———————————————-

 

Their departure was quiet for the most part. It was early morning when they finally set sail for Wessex. Boats were loaded in a timely manner with supplies and other necessities for the long journey. Freya had helped Helga pack up the supply of medicines that would be needed. Helga reminding her of each ones purpose before stowing them away safely in the wooden box that Floki had made to keep them safe from damage. 

“More importantly, remember to take care of yourself.” Helga reminded Freya sternly as she passed the medicine box off to Floki, who stored it safely on the boat. Freya nodded, glancing hesitantly back towards the boat they were about to board. 

Helga had decided last minute that she would not be making the journey this time. Having opted instead to stay behind and care for Runa, who she and Floki had so kindly taken in after recent events.

“You will do just fine.” Helga reassured, reaching out to embrace Freya gently. “Torvi will be there to help.” Freya smiled hesitantly but nodded as she stepped away, turning to face the boat. Pausing briefly when she felt the tiny hand wrap around her wrist and tug gently.

“Y-You are coming back…r-right?” Runa’s tiny voice asked as she stared up. Her warm brown eyes full worry. 

“Of course.” Freya replied as she knelt down carefully in front of the girl. “And you are in great hands with Helga. There is lots she will teach you to, I’m sure.” Runa’s worry was replaced by wonder as she looked up at the older woman beside them. 

“Really?!” She asked excitedly, smiling from ear to ear as Freya nodded in reply. Ruffling the girls dark hair as she stood, her chest growing tight as small arms enveloped her waist. “Thank you.” Runa’s tiny voice added quietly as Freya returned the embrace, briefly, as they were interrupted by the sound of Ivar clearing his throat from behind them. Freya gave one more smile before releasing the young girl. 

“Take good care Helga.” She added, Runa nodding shyly in reply as she returned to Helga’s side. Freya turning to approach Ivar, who had been waiting as patiently as he could manage near the end of the dock.

“Are you ready?” He asked, cocking as eyebrow curiously at her as she boarded the boat and took a seat. 

“As ready as I can manage.” Freya replied quietly; drawing in a deep breath as the boat was untied from the dock. Watching in silence as they set out for open sea. 

A heavy feeling sinking to the pit of her stomach, as they finally departed for Wessex.


	8. Chapter 8

They had been at sea for nearly a week, and Freya had not moved more than a few feet from her original spot by the edge. Her head having become a permanent fixture to the side of the boat as the rough waves beneath them made her stomach churn violently, making it difficult to keep even the tiniest sips of water down; most of her time spent dry heaving over the side of the boat or sleeping. Ivar frowned from his place up near the front of the boat as he watched her curl back up in her corner.

“If we do not find land, and soon, I fear there will be nothing left of her to take to Wessex.” Floki commented as he followed Ivar’s gaze and sharing the same concerns. They had tried everything Helga had perpared for this particular situation, and nothing seemed to be helping.

“I do not think I’ve ever seen someone so sick at sea…” Hvitserk added, shoving a bit of dried meat into his mouth. “I agree with Floki, we should find land. Even just for a few days.”

“We should be coming up on a small chain of Islands. We’ll stop soon as we reach them.” Ivar nodded in agreement. Even as reluctant as he was for stopping as it would only add to the length of their trip, but he knew it would be essential in making sure Freya survived the trip. He was after all the reason she was even on this trip to begin with. “If we have to, I will send ships ahead of us to ensure our position. We will come up with a plan once we find land.”

Lowering himself from his seat, Ivar drug himself to the opposite end of the boat; taking a seat beside Freya and lifting her head onto his lap, earning a disgruntled groan as she shifted to get comfortable. Wincing at the discomfort of her back that still pained her.

“Drink.” Ivar instructed as he offered her the waterskin, frowning when she pushed it away.

“I can’t…” She rasped out in a harsh whisper. Her voice hoarse from being so sick. Ivar simply rolled his eyes in response and tried again.

“It is not an option, Freya.” He stated a little more forcefully. “You either drink or you will end up dead.” She managed to crack one open one Emerald eye just enough to attempt a glare. “We will stop soon, I promise. Just try.” Freya obeyed that time, Ivar lifting her head ever so slightly as she took a small sip, coughing as it hit the back of her throat; burning the whole way down and hitting her empty stomach like a chunk of lead rock. She groaned in discomfort.

“Try not to think about it so much.” He instructed as she laid her head back down and closed her eyes, pulling her cloak tighter around herself, even though the evening air felt pleasant to everyone else around her.

“Easy for you to say.” She croaked out weakly with a frown. “I never should have come…”

“If only you had listened.” Ivar mocked lightly, Freya attempting to elbow him in the ribs but losing all momentum, lacking the energy and strength leaving the action fall short. Ivar moving to tuck her arm back inside her clock, noting that her arm was like touching fire it’s self, he frowned, gaining Floki’s attention and beckoning him over; taking his hand and placing it against Freya’s forehead as they shared a concerned look.

“We need to find land, fast.” Floki stated. “And pray to the God’s she makes it that far.”

Two days later they made landfall on a small chain of islands. Setting up camp and addressing the reason behind Freya’s sickness; which Torvi narrowed down very quickly. Finding that several of the deeper lash wounds on her back had begun to fester with fever, most likely caused by the infrequency of dressing changes due to Freya’s seasickness at the start of their journey.

“Will she be alright?” Ubbe questioned when Torvi finally emerged from the tent. The Ragnarsson’s had been waiting patiently for several hours, awaiting an answer…or rather impatiently in Ivar’s case as he had spend that time pacing back and forth in front of the tent.

“She should be fine.” Torvi assured. “I applied a mixture of herbs that should help draw out the fever…I would say she should start showing improvement in a few days to a week. Only time will tell.” Ubbe nodded in response, turning to address Ivar about their plan only to find him already gone, as he disappeared in a frustration induced rage down the beach.

“Let us rest and discuss it tomorrow.” Floki suggested. “I will go speak with Ivar.” Leaving the brothers to finish setting up camp and Torvi tend to the currently unconsciousness Freya who was lost in the throws of fever induced dreams. Applying a cold cloth to the poor girls forehead, she took a seat next to the makeshift bed on which they had laid her; knowing it was going to be a long night of trying to coax her poor body to cool it’s self down. 

In the mean time, Floki caught up to where Ivar had disappeared to. Finding him perched against some rocks near the waters edge, watching the Sun as it slowly faded, turning the sky deep shades of orange and red. His brows pulled together tightly, lost somewhere in his own thoughts as Floki took a seat beside him, providing him with silent company until he was ready to talk. 

“I never should have asked her to come…” Ivar stated, still staring out at the horizon.

“You can not blame only yourself, Ivar.” Floki replied calmly. “She knew the risks, and even given her current state she still chose to come.” He shrugged. “The Gods have willed things to happen this way for a reason. What is important is that she will be alright…” Floki stood with a smile, placing a hand on Ivar’s shoulder. “Try not to be so hard one yourself?”

“Whatever you say, Floki.” Ivar replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a brief smile before fading back into his usual expression. Stowing away his emotions like he always did, Floki taking the hint and leaving him be. Ivar finally returning back to camp well after the Sun had disappeared from the sky. Pushing inside Freya’s tent quietly as he, taking over Torvi’s watch duties so that she could go get a few hours of sleep before returning to check up on things.

Ivar sighed deeply as he re-wet the piece of cloth and draped it carefully across her forehead. A small whimper escaping her unconscious lips as he pressed down gently, his hand lingering for a few seconds before he pulled it away and sat back in his seat, running a stressed hand across his face and through his hair. Regardless of Floki’s reassurance that this wasn’t his fault, her still couldn’t help but blame himself for the current situation. Knowing that none of this would have happened had she stayed back in Kattegat…he never should have given her an option; he should have stuck to it when he told her she was in condition to travel and made her stay behind with Helga and Runa. But instead, he let his feelings get in the way and cloud his better judgement.

This was entirely his fault, and Freya was the one paying the price for it.

Cursing himself under his breath, he settled in for a long night. Refusing to leave Freya’s side, even when Torvi returned several hours later to apply more healing paste and redress her wounds again. Ivar feeling obligated to see that she was being properly taken care of…even though he knew she was in good hands with Torvi.

Knowing he would never forgive himself if something happened and he wasn’t there.


	9. Chapter 9

As the days drug on, Ivar found himself growing only more and more impatient. Freya’s condition only seemed like it was worsening, meaning their journey was put on further delay. Torvi working tirelessly round the clock as he hovered, providing the care she needed to keep the infection from spreading, but she had yet to fully wake from the fever fueled slumber into which she had slipped; save for the night she had woken the whole camp with her screaming.

Lost in the violent throws of a fevered nightmare, shouting incoherently in her native tongue, Saxon – language she had not spoken in years – as she writhed helplessly in pain on the makeshift bed in her tent. It had taken both himself and Ubbe to hold her down while Torvi forced a concoction down her that put her back under. It was stressful to say the least…and Ivar couldn’t stop placing blaming himself.

Obsessing over every little detail of events leading up to where they were now. If he hadn’t of drug her to that feast, just let her work instead like she wanted to, maybe she wouldn’t have stumbled into that girl; Runa? Wouldn’t have protected her, wouldn’t have taken her place for the beating that neither of them deserved…if he had just made her stay behind? Hadn’t asked her to come at all? But then again, perhaps it simply had been fated to happen, like Floki keep trying to assure him.

But Ivar refused to let it go, obstinate as ever.

It was weighing heavily on the entire group, driving a wedge between brothers as they argued on what should be done, given the current situation. Sigurd suggesting that he and whoever so wished to join, should take Floki and venture ahead to scout and secure their location. The mere thought sending Ivar spiraling into a rage that took hours to calm him out of. Ubbe only adding fuel to the fire when he suggested Sigurd might have a point, and Hvitserk choosing to side with no one and remain out of the argument. Already knowing that neither party would be able to agree in the end.

“Maybe they are right, Ivar?” Floki had chimed in sometime later, once Ivar had calmed down enough to listen. Earning a menacing glare from the youngest Ragnarsson. Floki holding his hands up defensively. “We will have to leave sometime, my dear Ivar…with or without her, I fear will not be your decision.” 

“I do not wish to speak of it anymore, Floki…now leave!” Ivar snapped, dismissing the older man with a sharp gesture of his hand. Floki bowed, an air of sarcasm underlying his actions as he turned on his heel to leave; ignoring the frustrated scream that rang out down the beach behind him.

“As you wish, my Prince.”

The days had started to blur together in a repetitive routine of pacing the beach, scavenging what little food could be found, and sitting at Freya’s bedside…praying to the Gods that she wake soon. Patience was wearing thinner by the day among the men, and if circumstances did not change, and soon, Ivar feared there would likely be an uprising.

“Explain it to me again, Torvi. If the fever is gone, why has she not woken yet?” Ivar demanded impatiently for what seemed like the hundredth time.

“I have told you time and time again, Ivar, I do not know when or even if she will wake.” Torvi gave an exasperated sigh. She had expended every resource she had available in an attempt to help Freya; but to no avail. She remained lost in the grasp of what ever dream-world the fever had been pulled her inside of.

“I am not Helga.” She admitted with defeat. “Perhaps if she were here, she would know if something more could be done…it just– it does not make sense.”

“Her body is here, physically. But her mind? The Gods have pulled her mind else where.” Ivar stopped pacing just long enough to roll his eyes at Floki who had just seemingly materialized out of no where; interrupting the conversation. 

“I am not in the mood for your ridiculous analogies, Floki.” Ivar spoke harshly as he resumed his pacing, blue eyes staring at Freya’s motionless form as if she would wake up at any moment. Floki turned his attention to Torvi who simply shook her head at the boat builder, motioning for them to step outside. The conversation resuming once they were out of earshot of the tent.

“I am at a loss, Floki.” Torvi admitted. “I have done everything I can think of…everything Helga has taught me; and yet, she does not wake!” Floki nodded in answer, stroking his beard thoughtfully as he stared out at the vast sea before them.

“The Gods have a plan, Torvi…and while I may not know what that plan is, I do know that Freya is meant to be part of it.” He replied. “One thing I do know for sure, we can not stay here any longer.”

“I know.” Torvi replied. “I have done all that I can here…her fever is broke and the wounds seem to no longer fester. She can be moved, but she will be at the mercy of the sea once we set sail.” Floki nodded in return, placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder as he turned back towards the tent in which Ivar still remained.

“It is a risk we are going to have to take.”

The seas had become increasingly rough, day after day, storm after storm; it made keeping course a constant battle. It also made caring for the unconscious Freya more difficult as they traveled. Most of the men were unnerved by her eerie appearance…so lifeless, yet still so alive. Many had even begun to blame the growing string of bad luck on her.

In the few weeks since resuming their journey, they had tracked off course, drifting for several days in the wrong direction before it was corrected. Multiple men had begun to fall ill from an unknown ailment, and three boats had perished to storms along with the countless men that crewed them. Many a whisper had spread of her body being cursed. Some even brave enough to dare threaten to throw her into the sea, in hopes that perhaps it would please the Gods? Though none dared come close enough to attempt such a reckless thing with Ivar sitting guard.

It was a death sentence in and of it’s self to challenge the Cripple, let alone try to take what rightfully belonged to him. Slave or not, he had already made it clear she was not to be harmed. But with rations running low and tensions running high, many of his fellow Viking brothers were starting to press their luck. 

“You tempt fate to freely, Cripple!” One man exclaimed, pointing a finger in Ivar’s direction accusingly. “That Slave bitch is cursed! I can feel it. She should be thrown to the depths as offering to Ægir; for the sake of everyone!” Many of the men and women on their boat cheered in agreement, arguing back and forth what should be done as Ivar seethed silently. Floki’s attempts at reason going unheard as the voices grew louder, drawing several of the nearby boats in as they took advantage of the eerily calm seas.

“You would do best to hold your tongue!” Ivar growled in a murderous tone, pointing a dagger back at the man who was making the accusations. Bracing himself against one crutch as he hovered protectively in front of Freya’s body, alongside Torvi and Floki.

“What in Odin’s name is going on?!” Ubbe yelled as himself and Hvitserk crossed over from their boat to Ivar’s; taking in the scene before them carefully. 

“Your Crippled brother has lost his fucking mind!” The same man from before shouted, pointing to Freya’s body that lie safely at the rear of the boat, just out of reach. “She’s cursed, I can feel it in my bone! Her body needs gotten rid of!” Cheers of agreement erupted again into the evening air.

“Over my dead body!” Ivar roared over the noise as he lurched forward, dagger ready. Ubbe stepping in between his brother and the rest of the boat, allowing Hvitserk to take stance in Ivar’s previous place guarding Freya.

“Enough!” Ubbe yelled, the boat falling silent for a moment as everyone’s attention fell to him. “I know we have had some ill fated luck, but that does not mean we are to start throwing people overboard. So long as she still draws breath, she stays.”

“But–” The man started to protest, cut off by the sharp glare Ubbe gave in return.

“I would choose silence, if you wish to keep your tongue.” He stated, one hand still planted firmly against Ivar’s chest. The youngest Ragnarsson sneering after the man as he turned, retreating through the throng of people that had gathered, stepping onto the other boat without another word.

“Reign it in, Ivar.” Ubbe warned lowly as he turned to face his brother. “We are all on edge, but now is not the time, nor the place. Understood?”

Ivar remained silent as he narrowed his gaze back at his brother. Rage burning rampant through his sapphire eyes as he took his place back beside Freya protectively as Ubbe ordered everyone to return to their places.

The wind starting to pick up steadily as storm clouds grayed what little light was left in the sky. Hvitserk exchanging a worried glance with Ubbe as Floki rushed to the front of the boat. The atmosphere shifting abruptly as the swells started to grow and raindrops started to fall from the darkening sky. Lightning cracking overhead violently, followed by an ominous rumble of thunder that shook everyone into terrified silence.

“Drop the sails! Drop the sails!” Floki shouted franically, several men rushing to get it lowered as the surrounding boats followed suit. Ubbe pushing his way to the front, stopping short of where Floki was perched on the bow, clutching to the wooden serpents head like his life was about to depend on it. Watching helplessly as the eye of the storm barreled toward their fleet.

“What do we do?” Ubbe questioned as he looked up to the boat builder.

“We pray to the Gods that that mans superstitions aren’t right, my dear Ubbe…that is what we do.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this is more or less of an intro to what I’m hoping to turn into a story. I was originally just going to make it a One-Shot or a Drabble...but then I just kept writing and yeah. Anywho...let me know what you think so far, yeah? :) Additional chapters will be longer...hopefully lol.


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